Too Rare to Die
by Avide
Summary: This remix is about Casey's awakening by WhenLighteningStrikes. COMPLETE.
1. Care to

_From the free encyclopedia: This article is related to __Distraction._

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The wall calendar says it's Thursday night and Casey's on the loveseat, watching _Casablanca_ and finishing a roast beef sandwich when her cell phone rings. In the film, Humphrey Bogart is smoking and waiting, so she doesn't feel guilty about shifting from her comfortable position long enough to dig the phone out of her pocket.

"Casey! I miss you! I need news."

She lights up. It's Emily (café au lait skin and cappuccino eyes with three main preferences in a hobby: male, straight, and attractive).

"School is going pretty well," she answers. "I already have an A in one of them."

"You haven't asked your other instructors about your grades?"

Casey rolls her eyes, smiling. "Not yet, but that's coming up. Oh, and Derek asked me to help him."

"Oh gosh; he did what?!"

"I know, that was pretty much my reaction."

"Did you get it in writing?" Emily asks.

Chuckling, Casey says "No" and listens to Bogart---er, Rick---protecting his conflicted feelings. She agrees with Emily over hair color and college majors while finishing her sandwich.

"What did Derek ask you to help him with?"

Casey recounts the moment, just twenty-something minutes ago: her step-brother standing on her doorstep with messy hair and a hand in the pocket of his perfectly acceptable jeans, his eyes too confident for her liking (again). He wastes her time until the mention of Sally---a blonde with sharp features he had stood close beside in high school, and driven around in a beat-up car, and played a song for on guitar---and this wasn't the first time he had asked Casey for help in relation to Sally. Casey, the daughter of his father's wife, pretends to not remember his ex right away.

"Sally is coming for the summer term, and she's spending it at my apartment."

"Sally from _**high school**_?" Emily cries. "Oh my god, that's…I…Is Derek just not over her? I thought that by now…"

"Maybe not, but right now, I have no idea what he's thinking about her."

"He asked a member of his family to give Sally a place to stay, and not just for a night. That says something big to me."

Casey finds herself nodding in agreement.

"I told my sister Lizzie that I was hoping to find a roommate," she says. "And of course she told Edwin, and what did he do? Turn around and say it to _**Derek**_!"

"Well," Emily replies. "This is going to be a very interesting summer."

* * *

Casey looks at the pile of napkins beside her tray, eavesdrops on the flirtatious couple a table away, and tries to remember the definition of symbiosis for her test at 3 o'clock (yeah, she's in trouble), because a certain shaggy-haired, straight-nosed someone moseys into her imagination right then; someone who looks like a combination of an actor from a toddler's favorite TV channel and mischief personified. Casey sits up straighter. A heavily tattooed redhead walks by, singing "Little Sister" from Elvis Presley to herself. It's bad enough attending the same school as the boy she'd wanted to escape from (after all the fighting and the pranks and the occasional confusing but healthy stalemate, where one would apologize, the other would want a hug, and both would be brushed aside out of sheer habit and suspicion). Now, though, Casey is ordinary in the school halls, just as she wanted it, and she doesn't feel the way she thought she would.

This is when a skinny, very pretty blonde girl chooses to sit down across from Casey at the table, blocking her fascinating view of a potted plant. The girl has a friendly face---one that screams "squeaky clean"---and Casey keeps her eyes trained on the girl's meal tray, because chicken strips are easier to meet than the blue gaze of a perfectly innocent bystander to Derek-and-Casey insanity.

"Hi!" says the blonde, whose legal name is Sally, but who is known best by many as the high school girlfriend of Derek's that changed him permanently, leaving a bruise on his shriveled, immature heart organ when she left for university in Vancouver. "Your roommate Lyra ate an apple today. You said she's on this insecure, I-have-to-hardly-eat-in-order-to-be-attractive swing, and I've started to see it for myself, but...she ate a fruit this morning, and that's a first step, right?"

Sally chuckles with this likable, easy smile, and Casey can't bring herself to fake one in return. She can't imagine why, since Sally is supposed to be the water-and-orange-slices break to the marathon of running and yelling that is communication with Derek, so Casey decides to toss out the proverbial bone…although that would make Sally the proverbial dog, wouldn't it…oh dear…

"I have brownie mix I've been wanting to use." Says the brunette, and the two girls grin at each other, before discussing who will buy the eggs and when they'll have the kitchen to themselves.

* * *

Truman, a guy she now realizes wasn't as great or as cute as she'd believed for so long, has dumped her via Alexander Graham Bell's most famous achievement. Having not only hung up, but used up half a box of tissues and deleted his number from her contacts list, Casey can't be blamed for also wanting to call her doctor to have her heart checked, since Derek got hold of Emily, whom he dated a while back and broke up with in a similar way to Truman's, all because he knows that Casey needs a friend to listen and be empathetic in her time of teen-pop-idol-heartbreak-song whininess.

A little later that same day, Casey's brooding in her bedroom (lights off, A Fine Frenzy on her stereo, a soft, blue teddy bear in her arms) when Derek once again comes in to talk her into something (again), but this time it's not a phone call with a best buddy. Instead, it's car keys, and Casey knows that it's evening (the sun is setting; how does she know this in the dark? She looked at the Lego clock Edwin made her two Christmases ago), so she's suspicious.

"It's all right, Derek." She says, going on to say she's fine, and make it clear that she believes things in the _cool_great_Sally_Derek world are on pause because of her tears, and that maybe this is another intended addition to her step-brother's resumé (the one meant to prove he's human).

Derek seizes her shoulder, and Casey can feel his apartment key pressing into her bicep.

She isn't listening until he says, "What d'you want me to do? Get on my knees and _**beg**_?"

She swallows then, thinking of a song Truman likes, called "A Little Piece of Heaven" from Avenged Sevenfold, wherein the heavily muscled, archetypical rock star M. Shadows smoothly sings, "_I'll do whatever you want me to do"_, and how that could get the imagination moving if you allowed it, and…well…Casey swallows again.

Derek's staring at her as he lowers his voice and says, "Please…"

There go her wallowing plans.


	2. make this

_This article has multiple issues: stepsiblings, friction, nice blonde girl, ice cream._

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Casey's trying to focus as Derek very quietly speaks into her ear, with charming statements like, "Your eyes make you look like you control The Spice. I'm sure bugs and bits of food get caught in your mane like they did in Bob Marley's dreads. Casey, right now, you look like a librarian on drugs."

They're in an ice cream parlor, without any of his or her friends-no Sally, either, and…Casey doesn't know what to make of it. Why is Derek being so…th-th-thoughtful? This little shop has lots of greens and pinks and purples and a vintage clock and a sundae painted on the side of the straw dispenser by the pick-up window…with a cherry on top of that sundae. There's one other customer, and she's halfway across the room, alone, because she was just unceremoniously left there by her boyfriend after an argument with forced quiet tones. Once again: why the hell is Derek here of his own will...with her?

"I bet your chin could carve into stone," Derek says, his mouth close to Casey's ear. "Your nose is practically shaped like a downward airplane; very attractive. You resemble Medusa after the curse. I bet your equivalent of porn is the 'Home & Garden Channel'."

He's pushed some of Casey's wavy hair out of his way, and his body's leaning in. A mirror's not far away, and in it is an image of Randy and Julie from _Valley Girl_, or Mickey and Minnie, or Diane and Lloyd in _Say Anything_, and Casey doesn't know what to make of that, either, so when the lonely girl meets her gaze and grins, mouthing "He's hot", Casey just rolls with it, playing the part, feeling his hand on her opposite shoulder and his breath by her ear when the other girl gives her a thumbs-up. She's made a bit nervous by how comfortable **_and_** exciting this moment feels. It's bittersweet, but she'll take that over saline-tinged sour. That's when Derek leans back, not removing his arm, just regarding her with genuine surprise.

"Um…wow," he says, "If I'd known I'm **_this_** good, I'd have been using these insults on a lot more girls."

* * *

Lyra spent exactly seven seconds flirting with Derek, mostly with body language, before focusing on Casey behind him, and deciding to stand up, cross the room, hug Casey, and compliment her. It's so…so 'chick flick' and yet so truly unexpected, since this is Lyra-Greek and a psychology major with gorgeous hair and an intentional lack of tact in regards to girls she deems "Marcia, Marcia, Marcia"-hugging the roommate she's dissed and glowered at for months: Casey.

* * *

How does one use a red dress to make dark half-moons beneath the eyes look intentional? Casey ponders this while Sally and Lyra use said dress ( a pretty one, at that) and go about their evening plans assuming Casey is going to put it on, show off those legs, and walk around a party with them.

Truman and break-ups and Derek all make party dresses feel tawdry (like Snuggies or food brands having Facebook pages), and that thought makes Casey even more tired when she's holding a red plastic cup, sipping its contents, tasting the bite, listening to her sober, decent-looking, male counterpart call her beautiful. Her head is soon resting on his shoulder, because she's dizzy, and his hand is gently, slowly moving up her thigh in this sensual, circular way-smoother than the booze going down her esophagus, and she's wondering if she should kiss him, and what would happen next if she did, and before she can move her head to be in a kiss-ready position, there's a certain very familiar brown-haired guy close behind her, arguing with What's-His-Name (…Paul?) and quickly getting a mechanical grip on her arm. Her head feels like it's starting to detach from her neck. The world is brown and burgundy and Kelly green and mustard yellow before Derek is moving her backward a bit, and his big, almond-shaped brown eyes are all she can focus on. Everything else is fuzzy and unimportant for ten seconds.

"You abandoned her when she needed you," is the accusation from the guy who'd been stroking her thigh.

If she were sober, she'd be pulling a total pigeon-head move, with a raised eyebrow and wide eyes, wondering **_what_** the guy meant by **_that_**? What could he know about her? Until now, he'd been the nice stranger making her feel sexy. Reality starts to sink in, though, when she realizes that she is losing control of her body.

* * *

Later, when she calls him 'Smerek', the reaction from her stepdad's son makes her feel like she just issued the best, most sincere and necessary warning of her life so far, but it also makes this feeling of disgust shoot through her, like she just tasted something awful.

* * *

Casey's really wondering how and when and why Derek moved his unattractive armchair from the 1980's to the apartment she shares with two other girls. Somehow that sentence feels like an oxymoron, and she…she's still curious, but…no sentence **_makes sense_** anymore. It's all Derek's fault.

* * *

When she's arguing with Derek over the remote and he pins her down and they exchange uselessly defiant dialogue while he holds onto her legs, building unlabeled tension higher with each second of searing, confusing eye contact, Casey experiences something she never has before.

When she gives him an order the way she would to a dog, "Derek, **_don't_**",

Derek lets out the words, "Don't…what?"

At this, she feels something heavy drop instantly to that carefully shaped place between her thighs, bombing her with metaphorical warmth **_right there_**. It scares her very much.

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_This page was last modified on 12 January 2012 at 10:20._


	3. argument more

_This article has multiple issues: motel room decor, more movie references, a baby, relief, new confusion_

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"Why did Sally kiss Paul?" Casey asks, her eyes on the nearly bare desk in the room, upon which sit just a pad of stationary, that phone with a crack in the handle, and a few unattractive coasters, stacked sloppily in the corner.

"Because she was angry with me," Derek answers, and it makes Casey's mind race to strawberries and how much Derek freaks out sometimes, although maybe, she thinks, **_Maybe_** he was distracted by how Sally looked in the lingerie just long enough to make her even more self-conscious. Maybe he got his hands on the champagne to ease his nerves, that idiot, and Casey makes this guess because of the time she saw him drunk. His friend Sam had said it was the result of seven drinks, and she thinks he might've made up the number to make her less concerned, but either way, she believes that Derek could hold booze about as well as she could (not at all). The night she saw him drunk, he'd been so weird, like _Tank Girl_ or that cheese-loving hippie from _A Goofy Movie_, or…well, weird enough that Casey wanted him to just get into bed immediately, hopefully fall asleep quickly afterward, and not bother her the next day if (fingers crossed) he was too hung-over to be annoying.

Here she is, curious, and in a way that doesn't make her feel nauseous, like she had the night that Sally had asked for her advice about something she never might've expected her to…something made of green satin…and…yeah, she's afraid to finish that sentence.

* * *

Casey can't help but wonder if, just before making one of his standard jokes [a you're-from-another-planet line], Derek might have actually been thinking of something besides _onegirloneboyonebed_. The walls are a drab, almost-beige color, the carpet is ugly and doesn't match, the drapes are too thin for Casey's liking, and Derek had to be enough of a dick to ask for a room without requesting that it be one with two beds. Casey glances at the phone that matches the wall color, the small hockey scar on Derek's wrist, his watch that's still behind daylight savings time. Who could relate to how she does a double-take at the sight of any brown-haired young guy in a brown leather jacket?

"Derek, we can't sleep on the same bed," she says, and feels like her bones are falling asleep.

They argue about it a bit, and she's so tired that her legs want to melt into a mattress immediately, but she decides to resolve something first. The problem comes up when Derek implies that she has the same relationship with him that Marti does. Her thoughts are as follows, 'I…uh, what? Um…Are you kidding? Do you…do you hear yourself?...I...', and she's showing her confusion right on her face unabashedly, as she tends to do, but Derek doesn't appear to be amused or uncertain. In fact, his facial expression, she can't read, so she's even more confused.

* * *

Scratch that previous thought. The most confusing part is the fact that he said that BS, comparing her to Marti, while she was wearing his sweatshirt; the same gray one with red lettering outlined in white that she took off after Derek's provocation pre-sex-with-Sally. As if things aren't _awkwardconfusing_ enough.

* * *

She doesn't understand why Derek is looking at her in that particular way. Sure, she embarrassed herself by cuddling in his arms during the storm earlier, but this seemed to stem from that dark place she'd refused to imagine had room for two people. Derek must have…looked at Sally's green lingerie and at the strawberries, and…figured it out, which…made something stir in Casey's stomach. She felt herself getting a bit nervous. This was something she had never thought would happen: Derek feeling what she felt.

His hands are on her back, those eyes of his are getting intense, and she's just beginning to wrap her mind around this total shift of her world on its axis, tilting and throwing off her equilibrium. This is just a lot to take in right away, and her stepbrother seems to agree, because he brings up the very reason they're in this motel: His father and her mother are expecting a baby together, and just the thought makes Casey pull away from this bed and this ugly room, to the moment when Derek allowed her use of the remote one day, _**in front of one of their siblings**_, with his arms close around her in a way that blatantly went against stepbrother behavior, and her head is suddenly full of that couch and kitchen and her pink-themed bedroom and having Derek right nearby. This soon-to-be family member will change everything for the Casey-Derek relationship.

"What will it look like?" Derek asks, his hands holding tighter to her body.

Her eyes widen, her mind snaps back to the stiff comforter, Derek's eyes, his hands barred from her skin by a thin layer of cotton, and he's about to _**share**_ something he's _**feeling**_!

"What?" she asks.

"The baby," is his reply, "Nora's baby; _**our**_ sibling."

'Think, think, think.' She tells herself nervously, 'Think of Punnett squares.'

"It'll probably have brown eyes; it's the more dominant gene." she says.

Derek is enjoying her hair with his fingers, tangling those digits in the soft, long brown strands. He makes a joke about her hair, saying the word "mutant" halfway through, but she isn't listening, because this moment feels orange chocolate-good, moonlight-good, watching-_While You Were Sleeping_-good.

Thinking of the baby again, she adds, "You'll spoil it rotten. And it'll still like you better."

"What can I say," Derek answers, his voice more positive now. "It's the Derek Venturi charm."

There's silence for a bit, until he quietly comes out with, "We're going to be siblings. Scared, McDonald?"

"No," she says defiantly, playing pretend. "Why would I be?"

And that's when she gets to have her _The Princess Bride_ moment - her couple-fusing-their-mouths-in-the-backseat-in-_Starfighters_ moment-the "As you wish" kiss to top all kisses (because of the possibilities that spill from his lips to hers), and it's from an experienced mouth that, right now, is so close to quivering (she can tell) from nerves, and Casey is relaxing even more and running her hands through hair she's never touched before, running her thumb along the apple of a cheek she's never imagined being kind to. There isn't anyone else she'd choose right now, but the surprisingly willing and gentle and earnest kisser that is Derek [tonight, in the harsh motel-desk-lamp light]. It's so unconventional and not at all what she planned in her daydreams about romantic interludes, but… this is just so…so Derek-and-Casey that the moment is utterly flawless.

And for the record, he kissed her first.

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_This page was last modified 12 January 2012 at 11:16._


	4. interesting?

_This article has multiple issues: motel room decor, more movie references, a baby, relief, new confusion_

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"Why did Sally kiss Paul?" Casey asks, her eyes on the nearly bare desk in the room, upon which sit just a pad of stationary, that phone with a crack in the handle, and a few unattractive coasters, stacked sloppily in the corner.

"Because she was angry with me," Derek answers, and it makes Casey's mind race to strawberries and his possibly freezing up when he saw them, or getting distracted by how Sally looked in the lingerie just long enough to (maybe) make her even more self-conscious. Maybe he got his hands on the champagne, though, that idiot, because Casey had seen him after what his friend Sam had said was seven drinks, and this kid could hold booze about as well as she could (not at all). The night she'd seen him drunk, he'd been so weird, like _Tank Girl_ or that cheese-loving hippie from _A Goofy Movie_, or…well, weird enough that Casey wanted him to just get into bed immediately, hopefully fall asleep quickly afterward, and not bother her the next day if (fingers crossed) he was too hung-over to pester her. She wouldn't expect for seven drinks to leave him with a hangover, but…just in case, since Derek is, after all, Derek.

Here she is, curious, and in a way that doesn't make her feel nauseous, like she had the night that Sally…in green…was…yeah, she's afraid to finish that sentence.

* * *

Casey can't help but wonder if, just before making one of his standard jokes [a you're-from-another-planet line], Derek might have actually been thinking of something besides _onegirloneboyonebed_. The walls are a drab, almost-beige color, the carpet is ugly and doesn't match, the drapes are too thin for Casey's liking, and Derek had to be enough of a dick to ask for a room without requesting that it be one with two beds. Casey glances at the phone that matches the wall color, the small hockey scar on Derek's wrist, his watch that's still behind daylight savings time. Who could relate to how she does a double-take at the sight of any brown-haired young guy in a brown leather jacket?

"Derek, we can't sleep on the same bed," she says, and feels like her bones are falling asleep.

They argue about it a bit, and she's so tired that her legs want to melt into a mattress immediately, but she wants something resolved before she lies down, to not stand again for hours. The problem comes up when Derek implies that she has the same relationship with him that Marti does. Her thoughts are as follows, 'I…uh, what? Um…Are you kidding? Do you…do you hear yourself?...I...', and she's showing her confusion right on her face unabashedly, as she tends to do, but Derek doesn't look amused or uncertain because of it. In fact, his facial expression, she can't read, so she's even more confused.

* * *

Scratch that previous thought. The most confusing part is the fact that he said that while she was wearing his sweatshirt. Yeah, the same gray one with red lettering outlined in white that she took off after Derek's provocation pre-sex-with-Sally. As if things aren't _awkwardconfusing_ enough.

* * *

She doesn't understand why Derek is looking at her in that particular way. Sure, she embarrassed herself by cuddling in his arms during the storm earlier, but this seemed to stem from that dark place she'd refused to imagine had room for two people. Derek must have…looked at Sally's green lingerie and at the strawberries, and…figured it out, which…made something stir in Casey's stomach. She felt herself getting a bit nervous. This was something she had never thought would happen: Derek feeling what she felt.

His hands are on her back, those eyes of his are getting intense, and she's just beginning to wrap her mind around this total shift of her world on its axis, tilting and throwing off her equilibrium. This is just a lot to take in right away, and her stepbrother seems to agree, because he brings up the very reason they're in this motel: His father and her mother are expecting a baby together, and just the thought makes Casey pull away from this bed and this ugly room, to the moment when Derek allowed her use of the remote one day, _**in front of one of their siblings**_, with his arms close around her in a way that blatantly went against stepbrother behavior, and her head is suddenly full of that couch and kitchen and her pink-themed bedroom and having Derek right nearby. This soon-to-be family member will change everything for the Casey-Derek relationship.

"What will it look like?" Derek asks, his hands holding tighter to her body.

Her eyes widen, her mind snaps back to the stiff comforter, Derek's eyes, his hands barred from her skin by a thin layer of cotton, and he's about to _**share**_ something he's _**feeling**_!

"What?" she asks.

"The baby," is his reply, "Nora's baby; _**our**_ sibling."

'Think, think, think.' She tells herself nervously, 'Think of Punnett squares.'

"It'll probably have brown eyes; it's the more dominant gene."

Derek is enjoying her hair with his fingers, tangling those digits in the soft, long brown strands. He makes a joke about her hair, saying the word "mutant" halfway through, but she isn't listening, because this moment feels orange chocolate-good, moonlight-good (The Raging Quiet much?), watching-_While You Were Sleeping_-good.

Thinking of the baby again, she says, "You'll spoil it rotten. And it'll still like you better."

"What can I say," Derek answers, his voice more positive now. "It's the Derek Venturi charm."

There's silence for a bit, until he quietly comes out with, "We're going to be siblings. Scared, McDonald?"

"No," she says defiantly, playing pretend. "Why would I be?"

And that's when she gets to have her _The Princess Bride_ moment---her couple-fusing-their-mouths-in-the-backseat-in-_Starfighters_ moment---the "As you wish" kiss to top all kisses (because of the possibilities that spill from his lips to hers), and it's from an experienced mouth that, right now, is so close to quivering (she can tell) from nerves, and Casey is relaxing even more and running her hands through hair she's never touched before, running her thumb along the apple of a cheek she's never imagined being kind to. There isn't anyone else she'd choose as the blue to her red and yellow right now, but the surprisingly willing and gentle and earnest kisser that is Derek [tonight, in the harsh motel-desk-lamp light]. It's so unconventional and not at all what she planned in her daydreams about romantic interludes, but… this is just so…so Derek-and-Casey that the moment is utterly flawless.

And for the record, he kissed her first.

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_This page was last modified 05 January 2010 at 11:43._


	5. CONTINUATION an author note

August 25th, 2010.

I am still satisfied with the way I ended this story, but have now recognized that fellow online fiction writer (and talented LWD veteran) WhenLighteningStrikes is taking time away from the site and the story, probably forever. I completely understand that and respect her story Distraction, but I am very, very curious about how it might continue.

If W. L. Strikes (even with the abbreviations, that's a cool pen name) does choose to go on with her life and grow out of ffnet, I would like to ease what I'll be going through in regards to Distraction by continuing my behind-the-scenes-fiction/remix/whatever Too Rare to Die may be. I am going to see my version through to the end, and not in any attempt to outdo the original author.

If you enjoyed the story enough that you'd like to see what else I can do with it, then please let me know!

I'm working on the continuation now.

sincerely,

Crash Murphy

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(HarperMonsoon on cracked dot com and I'm on fictionpress dot com)


	6. Two Questions: When's Dinner and

_From the free encyclopedia: This article is related to __Distraction and Too Rare to Die.

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"You're delusional if you think I'm going to break it to Nora."

Casey wonders if she's about to have an anxiety attack. Something in her chest just gave a sharp, tangible _pang_, her mouth fell open, and now she's looking around for a paper bag in which to breathe. Derek is still talking, but she's taking it as an opportunity to try to drag her tongue away from the roof of her mouth for a worthy response.

"I'm sorry?" her eyes search his in desperation as she speaks. "_**What**_ did you just say?"

"Are you f**king deaf, Casey?"

She swallows. This….she never would've expected.

* * *

Derek's been driving for a while and excitement over the arrival of his and her newest sibling has temporarily faded, at least within the confines of the car. Casey wants to know how far she and Derek now are from the university. She doesn't imagine she's ever had such an emotional experience in the McDonald-Venturi home, and, feeling tired and a bit hungry, she's afraid to even ask her step-brother a question. Her mind gets around to thoughts of Derek…her step-brother…the marriage license that made her meet this dick…his eyes that she can't read….the "please not tonight"…oh crap, now she's thinking about it again.

Suddenly, she recognizes a song on the radio and takes it to be a silver lining of the raincloud this weekend has been.

"…_All we need is a little bit of inertia / Break down and tell, break down and tell…"_

Her fingers, slightly shaking, reach out for the volume knob. His reach it first. She assumes that Derek must have caught on to her plan in his peripheral vision (because why would he glance over?). The song's volume lowers severely, prompting Casey to feel like she might be ready to cry. Derek's always been the childish type.

* * *

"Have you called Derek yet?"

"Lyra, leave it alone!"

"You're kidding; you have to be. See, I have to make sure that you don't die from avoidance-via-schoolwork or…I'll have to come up with some clever name for it-"

Casey sighs and plops a textbook on top of her desk. "Why are you refusing to see that the…the unspeakable _**thing**_ that happened with a certain male should go ignored?"

"Because love-"

"I'm not in love and I don't want to be."

"You're researching Marie Antoinette and acting a little like her as we speak," Lyra says, quirking her mouth in a way that said I_-'d-get-along-**so**-well-with-Mercedes-on-'Glee'_. "You've reduced yourself to living in a tight bubble _**that is unhealthy for you**_."

Casey dabs her own forehead with a tissue and seizes a stack of class hand-outs.

"That's enough, Lyra. You don't want my homework to be late, do you?"

"It's due in, like, a week. You could be in the hospital for exhaustion before a week is up."

"A business week or a-"

"Casey, just _**call**_ him. Figure out where your, um, relationship should go from here. You will see him again, so why not handle it without your mom and dad having to catch you snogging or-"

Casey's lips push together tightly. "That's enough."

Lyra smirks. "Is 'snogging' too risqué a word for you?"

"I don't know if risqué is exactly the word for-"

"Shut up, Casey. You have new homework now. Talking to that whore step-brother of-"

"Off I go!" Casey says loudly, practically jumping off of her chair, heading quickly for the door, ignoring the colorful spots flickering across her line of vision. "Maybe in the time…it takes…" her heart seems to be beating a little too fast. "For me to eat a sandwich, this blabbering creature will have given up. What's it called…a…a _**roommate**_?"

Her stomach feels…weird as she walks down the hall. Her breathing still isn't any better, but she puts that down to being annoyed.

* * *

Sally is still in the apartment. Casey has not forgotten about her (how could she?), but simply been careful, completely uncomfortable, wondering how to communicate with her in the aftermath. There's no guessing that all things Derek-and-Sally died with the strawberries, the drinking party kiss, the locked bathroom door. From what Casey can remember, Sally leaves for Vancouver in a week, and Casey's been worrying about whether a card or a cookie cake would be an appropriate farewell gift. Maybe nothing but a heartfelt apology complete with trying not to cry.

* * *

"Hello?"

"Yeah, hey Casey, what's this about my chair? If you've tried to sell or burn it, there will be a-"

"Is that really what you called me about, Derek?"

"I don't see a problem here."

Cue heavy sigh.

"Don't act like you were busy with something, Space Case. I have a real problem here. I-"

"Your chair is still here and it has to go."

Derek chuckles and rubs his chin.

"I needed to plant suspicions in your head about that awful chair in order to make it much more likely that you might come get it! I hate that thing and I want it out of my apartment!"

"Would Lyra agree with you?"

"Lyra would agree with me, absolutely, without a doubt."

"Doubtless," Derek says. "Without a doubt."

Casey blinks in surprise. "Where did you get that quote from?"

"I don't know what you mean. I'm just trying to move this incredibly boring conversation along."

"I don't believe you. I will find out what made you quote that-"

"Don't touch my chair, Case."

"I'm afraid that if I do, I might be transported to _Valley Girl_."

"You might be transported to _**what**_?" Derek inquires, now feeling very much out-of-the-loop in a two-person conversation. "Wasn't somebody famous in that with red hair?"

He hears Casey stomp her foot.

"Stop wasting my cell phone minutes and come get your ugly armchair!" she practically whines.

"You are the Cyril Figgis of real life. Listen, I have some things to do around my place, and of course, there's always the mountain of homework I've been putting off-"

"Why wouldn't you want the chair back almost immediately after the…the….break-up when…I mean, what if…"

"Way to make your point."

"You don't know that Sally or I wouldn't want to take out some kind of revenge on your odor-radiating piece of-"

Derek smirks. "That's a big step, Case. I mean, _**cursing**_ is a behavior I'd expect from a human being, and not-"

"_Mierda_! Just come over for the chair today or else." She demands before pressing her thumb against her phone's 'end' button.

* * *

She knows that after a week of really not feeling well, there should have been a tipping point at which she was spooked enough to go to a nurse or take a nap, but instead, she shows great weakness in front of Derek in an embarrassing way. She faints. How will she ever live this down?

* * *

Casey awakes to the sound of lush strings and an acoustic guitar-all playing on a radio somewhere in the room. She's surprised that her mouth feels as if it's full of paste. Her eyes slowly open to a grayish ceiling.

"Derek…" she says sleepily, "Why…why are you so close to my face? That's…yuck."

His eyebrow rises. "Are you sure?"

His deadpan tone makes her want to look annoyed, but...that would take too much energy. Talking is work enough right now.

"Where am I?"

Coldplay is on. Of course they friggin' are.

A hand brushes a strand of hair away from the corner of her mouth. She blinks up at him.

"Your dorm, keener." He nearly whispers.

The unmistakable sound of a rattling bottle of pills makes Casey begin to turn her head. That's when she realizes that a collection of drug store pill bottles are on the small table beside where she lies on the couch. Two of the bottles are for clearing one's sinuses, three are cold medicines meant to help her sleep, one contains throat lozenges, and one bottle each for Ibuprofen and Acetaminophen.

"Do I have one of each of those inside of me? As in…right now?" Casey asks.

Derek seems to already be all _oh brother_ about her slow cadence.

"No, of course you don't." he says.

Something drips down her temple.

"Derek, what was that?" she clears her throat, yawns, wants to hide. "What just slid down my face?"

He stares back for a beat, confused. "Oh! I, uh, had a rag full of ice on your forehead for a while."

"Was it a clean rag?"

"I skipped my favorite class for this?" he responded, keeping his tone flat.

"Did I pass out?" Casey inquired, the realization now dawning. She covered her face with her hands.

"Yes."

"Oh _**crap**_."

"You fell right in front of me, outside my dorm. Do you want ice cream or do you want to talk at me until I change my mind?"

Casey groans a bit and starts to roll onto her side to the tune of "Yellow" when a hand stops her.

"Move slower, nerd," Derek instructs. "Take it easy."

"You can't tell me when and what." She retorts as she examines her sparkly purple nail polish. Weeks spent obsessing over exams has left the polish very chipped.

The song changes to something from Maria Mena as Derek walks off, presumably over to the kitchenette.

"What kind of ice cream do you have?" Derek asks, and she stares at him.

"You've been here for however long, trying to nurse me back to health?"

"You're Casey MacDonald, therefore you _**must**_ have ice cream."

"Derek-"

"I don't know what's wrong with you; maybe keener fever or a bout of grade-aholism?"

The freezer door is opened.

She pouts. "You're not clever."

"You're not human. I've accepted that my step-sister is an alien nut bag, so grasshopper or cookie dough-wait. Is it one of your alien rituals to eat bugs?"

She groans again. "Derek!"

"Okay, cookie dough it is."

"Please microwave it for thirteen seconds to soften it up a bit."

"No way, loser; I'm not putting ice cream in the microwave." He replies.

"Der_**ek**_!"

Her eyelids still feel a bit heavy.

"Or were you a feral child? There's no doubt that either way, you were adopted." he says in a ponderous fashion, and in Casey's mind, it is now official: This is the worst sick day she's ever had.


	7. Can I

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* * *

"You've never wanted to hurt me," Sally says quietly in her ear. "I know that. Thank you for having me."

Then the hug ends and Sally opens the door. She says nothing about Derek directly, and Casey has no reason to believe that she spoke _**to**_ him before leaving, either. Lyra talks with Sally about the dorm assignment issue at her 'real' school-the issue that kept her here so long-and the other girl's big blue eyes display both relief and discomfort as she speaks. She hugs Lyra, who does her eye-rolling, I'm-too-cool-for-this thing, and makes sure to look back-and-forth a bit between her two roommates, embarrassing them both. It's all so anticlimactic but undeniably uncomfortable that Casey doesn't know what to do with herself after Sally has started down the stairs at the end of the hall. She feels so guilty.

Lyra closes the door and leans against it, focused on Casey.

"What happens now?" she asks.

She wants to hide, to sleep, to have a slow, gentle make-out with Derek, to pretend that there never was a mess to begin with, or perhaps to rewind time. Thinking of "Fringe", she wonders if her alternate universe self would handle this situation differently.

"I don't know yet," she says to Lyra, her fingers tracing her cell phone in the privacy of her sweatshirt's big pocket. "It's too soon to tell."

Lyra scoffs and walks away. Now she's alone at last.

* * *

Casey holds her textbook closer to her face, muttering, "_Me gusta leer en la biblioteca en mis días libres de las clases_," then closes her eyes briefly, sighing. "_Es decir, he leído en el día tengo libre de la escuela y la irritante Derek_."

The door to her dorm room is closed and locked.

"What're you doing, geek?" asks the aforementioned young man's voice.

"Go away."

"And spread further awareness of my good looks and solid muscles? I'd like to, but my dad and Nora wouldn't like that; not when their little Casey is-"

"I'm not debilitated, Derek. _Que estoy haciendo realmente bien_."

"So you say. Speaking of which…how well did you drag your way through classes yesterday? Did you pass out on a guy?" Derek sits in his damn armchair, facing her directly. "Please say you did."

"I'm not 100% yet, but close to it!" Casey retorts.

"You're out of turkey."

"Fascinating," she answers, and with that, she's reading again.

"You should get more, since some people like turkey sandwiches."

"Leave me alone, Derek."

"I need to make sure you're not starving and pale, curled up in the corner with a book. I see you're halfway there, though, so…points for taking a step back."

Casey sets her book down, her fingertip tracing the aged binding.

"Stop it!" she shoots back, trying not to get loud. "Don't you have things to do? You must have a test you could pretend to study for, or girls to hit on, or keg stands-"

"It's not even noon yet."

"That encourages my surprise that you're here, since…it's morning."

"Just eat something and I'll go."

She tilts her head. "What? You wouldn't make it that easy. Where's the catch? Did you booby-trap the refrigerator?"

"There is no booby-trap," Derek replies, a grin working its way across his lips. "There is only Zule."

His step-sister groans, leaning back dramatically. She lets her head flop against the cushioned back.

He reiterates. "You eat now, I leave."

As Casey stands and moves toward the fridge, she thinks about Derek's hair, the way happiness sometimes warms his eyes, the fact that she blacked out in front of him just two days ago, and…it's just so unfair that he's bossing her around in _**her own **_dorm room.

"Who bought this 'I'd Rather Be in Paris' pillow?"

She opens the door to the refrigerator and tries to pay attention to the task at hand.

Apparently Derek isn't giving up easily. He has taken to meandering about the room, taking in the two CD stands and the magazine pages taped to one wall. "Who would name their kid Ingrid? That's just mean."

Casey sighs and looks through her eating options.

"Who is Ingrid Michaelsen anyway?"

Now she caves. "_**Der-ek**_!" Then she imagines he's smirking and decides to have one of the microwavable pasta meals she keeps in a small stack in one of the kitchen's few cupboards. "Just leave it alone."

Once the machine's proper buttons have been pushed, Casey turns to face the other room, kind of slow like she's seen in high-tension reunions in movies. Right on cue, Derek is staring directly at her.

"You really have changed the way you look at me, and not in a good way." He tells her, his voice lower than before.

The moment is now uncomfortable for Casey, like the times she watched "Coffee Prince" or "Tool Academy".

"Is that…" Casey reaches up to push hair behind her ear. "What's bothering you?"

Derek sighs and rubs the back of his neck. "I don't like the changes between us," he says. "But…" His eyes flick to the picture wall and back to Casey. "Um…Just eat something so I can go."

Derek hasn't brought an elephant into the room. He brought a whole zoo.

* * *

He's tinkering with his roommate's remote control car when she shows up. Something's off about the energy that floats between them, and Casey hasn't even stepped through the doorway yet. As she takes off her jacket, her gaze never leaves the subtle movements of Derek's face as he focuses on the little remote control car.

"You…" she closes the door to his dorm room as quietly as she can. "You called me…?"

"You kicked me out yesterday," he says calmly. "I had more to say."

Ah, yesterday, when he wanted to stake claim on some of her groceries and play nurse for a second and-oh yeah-pull a _Sex and the City 2_ Carrie act by calling Casey out on their recent lack of relationship, as if things between them can be mended by togetherness and jewelry. Derek has [in a fashion she's accustomed to with guys], left her to decide whether or not they would try to be an item. He put his hands into the pockets of his Army fatigue jacket and gave up the say he could've had. Moments like the basketball game throw her off of that thought and once again make his name synonymous with 'uh-oh'. She has no interest in feeling the confusion of that and the life-changing night ever again. The uncertainty, the idea that Derek may have only wanted to date her out of misplaced, false nobility-Casey remembers clearly that it made her cry, made her feel used.

These days, she wants to bravely forge ahead and ignore the questions that her step-brother's behavior brings up.

Derek is holding her gaze now, so she reaches up to play with a few strands of her hair.\

"I…I don't know what you want from me exactly. Do you…" Her throat is now suspiciously dry. "want a girlfriend or is this pity?"

His forehead relaxes somehow.

"You've been pushing the world away," he tells her, getting to his feet, the little toy car forgotten. "I know it's because of things between us, and whatever happened, it's not over."

She swallows. "When will it be?" she inquires, her voice unusually quiet. "I thought it was up to me, and it seems like you've changed your mind. What does _**that**_ mean?"

"What does it mean?" He sounds confused.

She takes a deep breath. "Yeah, you want something from me, but I think about…that day…when you made it sound like there might be pity or this awful sense of obligation. I mean, you assumed we'd be together after that, and…I don't know where that came from, with the way you were talking."

This has to be one of the toughest conversations she's ever had with Derek.

"I'm the villain, then?" he replies. "Where's my animal sidekick and song-and-dance number?"

She rolls her eyes, but avoids meeting his gaze. She's sick of letting him see her tears.

"I was giving you what I thought you wanted." He tells her.

She studies the wall, the doorframe.

"Casey, say something."

"Shut _**up**_, Derek. You always want to take charge like this, but…we went about this the _**wrong way**_. In the…motel room…after…" she makes a very vague hand gesture. "We handled that so badly. Do you want us to be together properly, where you aren't such an ass#%&? That's hard for me to wrap my mind around, but if that's what you intended to offer the first time around, tell me now! If you still want that, _**tell me now**_!"

Horror of horrors, she sniffles in that telltale way.

"There's a tissue box over-"

She glares at him. "I _**know**_, Derek."

"I haven't really left you alone-"

"I noticed."

His eyes narrow. "That should be a sign."

"So you weren't toying with me that night?"

"No. I was being a wimp, but no, I wasn't trying to be a bastard…not really," he gestures. "Take the couch. I know that getting angry takes a lot out of a person."

"After some of our fights, I took naps." Casey says as she sits down, the remote control car on the cushion between her and where Derek stands.

He moves the little car to the small coffee table nearby.

Things are getting better.

* * *

That following Thursday, Casey is heading to her friend Mandy's dorm, hoping to watch a couple of weird movies and listen to Mandy's clever jokes that have as many pop culture references as Annie the Orphan has freckles when she sees Derek sitting in a lawn chair in front of his assigned dormitory, a nearly-full bottle of beer in his hand. She doesn't understand why he's chosen to do this or how he gets to chill in a foldable chair like that without an R.A. or dorm mail room girl stopping to check his forehead. He's watching the sun set, its path leaving behind a large array of purples bruising the sky in sensuous shapes. There's no way that Derek could have missed that she was approaching him, considering the direction she'd come from, and now she doesn't know what to do with her hands as she steps from loose gravel to grass, getting closer to him. She hasn't seen him move in at least a minute.

"Casey," he says, standing. "'S up?"

She tilts her head like a puppy would, hoping it looks just as cute on her.

"I'm okay. How are you? How did that test go for that graphic design class?"

He shrugs, subconsciously also moving that attractive hair of his and makes the following sound like one word: "It was all right; Look, I want a beer-you thirsty?"

It has to be just after 4pm. Casey wrinkles her nose.

"Oh, that's right," he says. "That wouldn't be lady-like."

"Shut up, Derek."

"Where were you headed?"

"I was going to see my friend Mandy."

"A surprise visit, maybe?"

Casey tries not to show that she's the one surprised. "What makes you guess that?"

"Honestly," Derek replies, rubbing the back of his neck and simultaneously giving that very male upward head-jerk of greeting to a passing blond guy in a polo shirt. "I saw her kissing Dave from down the hall just about thirty minutes ago. Y' know, before I came out here."

"So you think she's busy right now."

"I don't remember seeing her pass me to walk back to her dorm."

"Maybe she's stealthy."

"Do you mean Operation Purple Fog Part 2?"

Casey gulps. Like, literally gulps…when she doesn't need to swallow.

"How would you…" she trails off when a genuine smile appears on his face. "I…What made this…" She clears her throat, shakes her hair. "You know what? I'll take that drink."

"You will? I'll make your usual, then; a double of Maker's Mark, up."

She ignores that last one as his hands warm her lower back and she kisses him (a kiss that's innocent but sound).

* * *

_This page was last modified on 24 October 2010 at 4:08pm._


	8. Have a Pony?

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* * *

Casey closes her cell phone just as she hears a noise by the door. Derek's leaning against it, two grocery bags in his hand.

She smiles. "Hi! Did you get marshmallows?"

He shrugs, the corner of his mouth tilting upward. The bags are set on her desk, he sheds his skateboard shoes, and heads her way. It makes a pleasant, jittery feeling start in her chest.

"Are we telling the family?"

She blinks, the jitters gone. "Derek…" He's staring back expectantly. "Before you left, you said you were going grocery shopping."

"I did."

"Grocery shopping means bringing home beer, marshmallows and a bag of grapes?"

"Tell the family we're together and I'll make a grocery list." Derek says with one eyebrow up. He's challenging her.

She tugs on one of the belt loops of her jeans.

"One you'd follow, buying everything on it?"

Casey expects him to nod, but he smirks instead.

"It's one phone call, Case. I think you're afraid."

"You sound insecure." She replies, keeping her voice a little gentle, a little friendly-avoiding full-on retort territory.

"We had to talk about this sometime. I don't want it to go the way it did last time."

She steps close to him. "I don't, either."

"It'd be weird, sure, but…" he runs his hand through his hair. "I guarantee it wouldn't be painful…like….if someone in the family got angry…thought this was wrong. That wouldn't happen. You could just call Lizzie and work it into the conversation. It's not worth getting nervous about."

"You don't think anyone will look at us as if we're drunk or something? I mean, this is a complete turn-around."

Derek shrugs. "Are you cool with letting them know?"

One of her hands curls around the side of her neck, the other on the armrest of the couch.

"Casey?"

"I, um…" she bites her lip. "Let's wait, but…"

His face tilts downward. She reads it as disappointment.

"We can…I don't mind if we tell them," she insists. "I just…it doesn't have to happen today, right? Let's take our time with it, so that it isn't random or at an inappropriate time. Until then, we can adjust to the new roles we're playing in each other's lives."

He blinks. "Uh-huh."

"Yes. You'll be less of a jerk and we'll kiss a lot, so long as you don't try to make me sit through any of the _Terminator_ movies."

"You noticed my little movie shelf."

"I did."

She mimes puking and his arms cinch around her waist, squeezing until she admits defeat with a squeaking noise. His arms slip down to rest comfortably at her hips and she tilts her face back for a kiss, only to be met with his lips at her temple.

"Hey!" she bats his shoulder with her well-manicured fingers. "Where's the romance you've promised me?"

He smirks. "Did I promise anything? Besides, the _Terminator _movies are _**not**_ bad."

She pauses, eyes darting side-to-side, mouth in a little 'O'. "Well…you signed up for something that requires specific romantic gestures. Don't act surprised."

He kisses her cheekbone. "I'm telling Edwin today. We don't have to treat this dating situation as if it's a negative, dramatic thing, 'cause…I can't see anyone looking at it that way. Now we've each done too much talking."

"Very true!" she replies with a light, teasing smile. "You deserve to know, though, that I came over here just for the marshmallows."

He groans, she pulls away from him, retrieves the bag of sugary cylinders, and hurries to the couch. He follows just as quickly. Once they're settled and the TV is on, Casey turns to face him. She swallows, internally astonished that she even needs to do that.

"I get a little…apprehensive, maybe, when I think of your usual way with girls, and the fact that we used to argue so much, on top of the, um…Sally thing…" Derek stops tracing her hip with his fingers. "Then the night at the motel; I mean, that was a big deal, Derek, and you know it! Later, of course, you gave me an out. I took it. Remember? When I was looking down at the baby and-"

He sighs. "Casey."

Suddenly, she's feeling a lot more certain when his mouth presses against hers, roughly, firmly, and soon, his hand is shoved underneath the cotton of her top, up her stomach and ribcage. Casey's mouth opens a bit, and her back tenses in anticipation; Derek takes full advantage of it with his lips and tongue. That's when he surprises her again, his fingers splaying right beneath her breast, never touching it. Casey turns her face, inhaling deeply, trying to ignore Derek's surprise at her rejection of another kiss. He presses his mouth against her neck, thus bringing his upper body intimately close to hers. She wants to say something to him-a question or something to chastise his quick hand and demanding mouth. Not long ago, it would have been her greatest desire to spit out an insult when he got close, but right now, all that comes up now is a breathy, very feminine (embarrassing) sound and her foggy brain's demand for more.

"I need you to face what we have." Derek rasps in a half-whisper.

She exhales noisily, still unable to think of what to say. His body is warming hers, and she remembers how solid his abdominal muscles are. It makes her wish that she and Derek were at opposite ends of the couch or room, instead of tempting each other so much. His hand slides down her torso and traces along her waistband before disappearing from her senses, leaving the ghost of his touch to haunt her instead.

"I wanted to be sure," she whispers. "There are…big reasons to say no."

She feels Derek's breath at the base of her neck.

"'No' to what?" he asks quietly.

She inhales through her mouth. "I can think of reasons to say no to there ever being an 'us'."

"Are you afraid?"

She scoffs, and tries to do so quietly. This dorm room really needs to be repainted. There's an unattractive (but light) smudge around the light switch from years of hands groping to find it, and in one corner, the white of the ceiling has blatantly moved down over pale green. That white paint infringes harmlessly, whereas almost anything else in life taints what it overlaps…at least in Casey's mind. She's afraid to turn her head.

"This could be something great." He says quietly. "Call me when you've told the family."

She closes her eyes for the entirety of that statement, enjoying the nearness of his body and voice. She hears her own voice in her head now, insisting that she wrap herself around him and get kissing started again. It's a relief to feel that way and not be at all confused or concerned anymore.

* * *

"Hello?"

"Lizzie, hi; Are you free to talk?" Casey asks, trying not to feel nervous.

"I am if you're free to listen to the best news since 'There are no longer any fan fiction writers poorly ripping off _Band of Brothers_'."

Casey blinks. It's been a long time since she spoke with Lizzie for more than a minute. "Don't tell me there aren't any more hospital boats."

In London, Ontario, Lizzie laughs. "That's just in the one story. University is treating you well if you're maintaining that sarcasm. Do you still like your school?"

Casey found herself nodding enthusiastically. "I do! I do. What about you?"

"Oh come on. School's dumb over here; boring. There's a really cute guy in one of my classes, but…I've seen him try to play a couple of sports, and...Forget it."

"He's just eye candy?"

"Exactly."

"How are your grades? Are you studying a lot? And Edwin-"

"Yes, everything's cool on the grades front, okay?"

"'Front'? I…" Casey gets distracted by her Florence and the Machine albums being in suspicious disarray on the CD rack.

"I'm reading more now. Right now it's Louise Rennison. So did you call about something significant? Something big?"

"It's a boy thing."

This isn't the first time that the oldest McDonald sister has had a difficult time thinking of how to broach a subject with the other, even though last time, the former had flashcards.

"You don't sound upset," Lizzie says. "That's good already."

"Well, you're right, nothing's wrong, but um…you had news. Shouldn't we cover that first?"

Casey refrains from letting out the nervous attempt at a chuckle that's in her throat.

Her sister sighs. "My grades are really good, Casey. As in…you'd be proud and trying to hug me right now."

"That is so awesome!" Casey squeals and, amused that much more by imagining Lizzie's grimace at the sound, she adds, "You waited this long to tell me?"

"A ninety in English, three classes in the eighties, and a one-hundred. Guess which one."

Both girls know there's no need. That hundred is in P.E.

"This is exciting! Congratulations. I knew you could do it. All it takes is hard work."

"Yeah, great, thanks, hurray."

"Was the sarcasm necessary?"

"I have to take things back to your news. Who's the guy and what stage has this reached?"

"Well, last week, we didn't see each other for, like…I don't know, five days? And when we met up again, he had bought marshmallows and a flower for me!"

Liz chuckles. "What kind of flower? What color is it?"

"Purple. It's a tulip. Liz, I'm…I'm worried about what you're going to think of who he is, because…because I think you might be really surprised, and I don't want you to be upset-"

Her sister chuckles again. "Are you dating a mobster or a drug addict?"

Casey glances out the window, at students passing by, some wearing beanies, some smoking cigarettes, some fixing their hair-all of them talking.

"Of course not, Liz; you know I wouldn't. What do you mean by that?"

"I'm joking because I don't get what could be so scary."

"Possibly scary…or…well, it was scary for me, but now I can't help but think it's just weird. I don't want it to be a huge shock that makes you feel nauseous-"

"Casey."

Pause.

"You don't have to tell me now if it makes you that uncomfortable."

Casey takes a deep breath, adjusting the pearls around her neck. "No, I think now is the time, Liz, because…I think that maybe you…should ease Mom into the idea."

"Ease her into the fact?"

The story's protagonist clears her throat. "Yes."

* * *

Over the phone, he makes her solve a riddle about his location.

When they're face-to-face and his friend Dave or Patrick (or is it Jason?) has walked away, Casey takes in Derek's appearance. He's wearing a jacket that she and Nora picked out together two years ago, and a surprisingly simple and not embarrassing necklace Marti made for him when he and Casey and been in London to meet their baby brother.

Upon deciding to use an uncharacteristically direct approach to a boy, Casey steps closer to Derek and says, "I thought that maybe your ultimatum in London meant you were sick of trying."

After one blink, his hands go from his pockets to her hipbones.

"I have to fight a little more than I thought I'd have to. It's always been like that when one of us has wanted something from the other," he tells her. "I had to try again after that basketball game, but…"

"It had to wait."

"Yeah, and I was really pissed off about that, but after a while," Derek paused to swallow. "You fainted because of that keener breakdown."

Casey rolls her eyes. "I was _**sick**_."

"You were sick because of a refusal to take care of yourself."

She wants to kiss him.

"It made more sense that I nurse you back to health instead of-"

"Oh, come on-"

"-Lyra the Impossible, and it gave me the chance to see how much you look like that little demon girl in _The Ring_ when you're ill."

She rolls her eyes again, smiling this time, because when does Derek normally use the word 'ill'?

She gently pinches his side. He smiles in the way that says 'Watch me score big _**right now**_'; time to steel herself up.

"You're the only one I want," he says. "and you've been _**dying**_ to make out with me."

She groans, he chuckles and allows himself to be pushed.

They claim a nearby bench, where she kisses him until her lungs protest.

"You're crazy about me." She says.

The sun is, like, winking at them through the clouds and Derek's looking really good today-relaxed and sporting perfect hair. She curls her fingers in it, sliding her torso against his, going in for the ultimate fireworks kiss.

He pulls his head back a little, the sweet newness of her enthusiasm fresh in his mind, and he tells her, "You're the one who can't get over my bad boy appeal."

"Ew, I've seen you in your sister's make-up after another night of babysitting."

He lightly pinches her side and this time, attempts a distraction via his teeth on her earlobe. Casey tilts her head dramatically as an obstruction and almost giggles.

"I have no idea," he whispers. "What," then a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth, "you're talking about."

She shifts just millimeters away and gently wraps her left hand around his fleece-clad arm.

"We're going to have an adventure now, aren't we?" she says, a soft smile on her lips and a never-before-seen tenderness in her eyes.

His eyebrows rise. "Will it be complete with swashbuckling?"

She sighs and rubs his arm. "I spoke to Lizzie. Please come see me after your class today."

Derek's entire torso changes the message it wants to send, shoulders shifting, as if his body is sighing. His gaze is now warm and excited. "I guess I can tear myself away from notes about the Great War and Roaring 20's for you."

"Good."

"I'll make you dinner?" she offers.

He answers this time with a smirk and a kiss. This is a beginning, and it's a warm, yummy new place.

* * *

_This page was last modified on 16 January 2013 at 12:04am._


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